


Pretty Setters' Club

by Thecaitsmeow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Begging, Crossdressing, Domestic Fluff, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Frottage, Gay, Gay Bar, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I'm just laughing because I want to include everything under the "abuse" tag, Illnesses, Lapdance, Light Dom/sub, Like this is just going to be nonstop gross sex once the ball gets rolling, Lingerie, Lolita, M/M, Major Character Almost Death, Mild Language, Molestation, Oral Sex, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecaitsmeow/pseuds/Thecaitsmeow
Summary: What would happen if Kuroo and Bokuto suddenly found themselves in ownership of an obscene amount of money?  They'd buy a strip club, obviously.  
Life after school can be a bit of a rude and brutal awakening.  Being an adult is hard, as all of our boys are discovering.  With a negative bank account, looming eviction, and a pantry full of pre-packaged ramen, Hinata and Kageyama are finding themselves at the bottom of this food-chain that is the real world.  By some stroke of dumb luck, they got in and survived college, but what comes next?  Hinata makes one last, desperate attempt to make some quick cash before he gets thrown out of his apartment and onto the streets-- but when he lands an interview with Kuroo, whose business is kept pretty tight-lipped, Hinata will discover a darker, grittier underworld than his charismatic radiance has ever known.





	1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Rock-Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a joke, and I'm not so sure it still isn't. It's now just a (predicted) 15 chapter mistake of sin and angst that I need to get off of my computer and into the world. I have roughly 3 chapters finished, and several random scenes that I'll piece together later, but I'll try to post fairly regularly once my beta readers get a chance to look it over. That being said, this first chapter has not been tested, I'm just an impatient piece of shit so bare with me for this first bit. I know the concept is kind of silly, but just roll with me-- if you like sex, angst, drama, and cute boys in risqué clothing, I think you'll dig it. First few chapters are tame but then it's going to get gross pretty quick once the plot is established... Happy reading, sinners.

 

# Chapter 1: Welcome to Rock-Bottom

 

**  
**Things were always a little bit harder to ignore when they were staring back at you in black and white.

        Hinata had worn several creases into the corners of the yellow eviction notice as he read the bold print again and again and again, hoping somehow that he could will the words to eventually change.  This wasn’t really happening to him-- it was all some cruel and twisted nightmare he was enduring brought on by eating spicy pork buns the night before.  

        About an hour into the pacing, the anxiety, the denial, reality set in and it set in hard.  

        Hinata was woefully in debt.  

        And he knew that; this wasn’t his first hint, nor his first notice.  He peered over to the kitchen counter where several other tattered, abandoned envelopes had been stashed underneath a bowl of turning fruit.  Most of them were different, yet the message was still pretty well received-- late rent, late power bill, late loan payment, eviction warning, eviction notice…

        It was surprising that Kageyama hadn’t found them yet.  Though they didn’t technically live together, they were neighbors in their small apartment complex in Tokyo, and they often made the habit of treating each other’s apartment as their own whenever boredom or loneliness struck in their free evenings.  They were both fresh out of university, and it was astounding to everyone, especially themselves, that while they had not only passed the entrance exams, they had graduated too.  
   
        Fresh out of college, fresh out of money, and fresh out of ideas.  

        Kageyama was lucky enough that his family was comfortable enough financially and could assist him through school until he was offered a job; Hinata on the other hand had a bit more of a humble upbringing.  His mother had gone above and beyond just to prep him for college, much less assist him financially on a single-mother-budget.  And being an adult was hard-- no one ever tells you about all the hidden expenses that come with simply existing, especially in the city.  

        Hinata folded the notice along the creases that he had made until it was the tiniest square it could make before he tiptoed over to the kitchen counter to hide it away with all the others.    
The yellow of the paper stood out like a sore thumb against the others that were plain and white.  

        This was his final notice.  

        Guilt and fear sat heavy on his stomach, but unattended hunger gnawed at those emotions until Hinata’s hand dove into a back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his cellphone; he flipped it open with a thumb and punched through his recent contacts until he found the name he was looking for. The message he padded into the worn out keys was rushed and broken, but the recipient was used to his sloppy jargon.  

        Hinata hit send.  
   
       Only a moment letter, his phone chirped a shrill sound in response, one new message flashing brightly on the front screen from his high school friend, Kenma (who thankfully kept his phone close at all times), agreeing to meet him downtown for some lunch.  It wasn’t the wisest choice right now financially, Hinata admitted to himself, but he had to get out of that apartment and its uncomfortable solitude.  

        Hinata shrugged on his faded volleyball jacket from college and zipped it up tight to his chin before hurrying to the front door, cramming his phone, wallet and bus pass into their own individual pockets in his wake.  

        Relief was nearly instant as Hinata stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him in the empty third floor hallway of the complex.  As if all his troubles were like some wild beast he could cage away behind a metal door.  

        He glanced to the door beside him, to Kageyama’s apartment, and quietly wondered if he was home; as much as Hinata could use his familiarity, even the usual banter, he couldn’t endure it just yet.  He wasn’t strong enough to bite back his trouble today.  He was already starting to get a headache from the way his brows had pinched together in distress, and he knew the pain was plastered all over his face.  

        Kenma would pick up on his anxiety as easily as Kageyama would, but Kenma wouldn’t pry.  He’d wait for Hinata to bring the topic up, or shrug it off all together, before he ever snooped into Hinata’s life; Kenma understood the battle well of facing your internal demons.  

        Hinata took the stairs down to the ground level two at a time until he made it to the concrete of the sidewalk, his pace never slackened, instead he willed himself forward into a light jog until he had made it into town to the nearest bus stop.  Hinata had never been a fan of running from his problems.  

        But maybe if he was fast enough, he could leave it all behind.

\-------------------------------------

        “You’re going to get a stomach ache.”  

        Hinata lifted his head, meeting Kenma’s gaze as he spoke, noticing now the amount of empty sugar wrappers that littered the cafe’s table.  

        The redhead made a soft noise in the back of his throat in agreeance, collecting the bits of paper into a wad in his sweaty palm.  Hinata quickly stirred his drink until the thick coating of sugar on the surface dissolved into the rest of his glass, ice clinking against the brim.  Pinching the straw gingerly between his lips, Hinata sucked a mouthful of tea into his mouth and let it settle there until he was satisfied with the taste.  

        Much better.  

        For a place as nice as this, Hinata was surprised at how flavorless his beverage had come; even the waitress had lingered to giggle at his soured reaction to that first taste.  
“It’s organic.  Well, it was.  Until you dumped six packets of artificial sugar into it.”

        “Oh,” Hinata wrinkled his nose, taking slow sips of the tea now that the secret had been revealed, “I’m surprised you like it, then.”  
Kenma shrugged, “I’m used to it.”

He’d been on a health-kick for the last year or more, Hinata remembered.  It was no surprise that he requested this place if he was still being conscious.  

        Kenma’s health had taken a sudden turn the year after he had graduated high school, so much so that college hadn’t even been a feasible option for him, with the way he was in and out of hospitals or treatments.  Hinata felt woefully kept in the dark of the whole process, but Kenma kept him and everyone else just at arm’s length with everything that was happening to him.  

        Hinata spent endless, concerned hours waiting by the phone for updates whenever he heard word that Kenma was back in the hospital.  Luckily, Kuroo never strayed far from his side, even before Kenma had been sick, and kept a handful of chosen friends up to date on his status.  

        Hinata quietly regarded Kenma across the table then, looking upwards through his lashes as he sipped on his herbal tea again.  

        Kenma looked healthy now, he thought.  

        It had been roughly six months since his last checkup, and he assured Hinata that he had been given a clean bill of health and that he shouldn’t worry.  Still, Hinata did.  He looked nearly back to his old self, just perhaps slightly thinner.  No one dared admit it to his face, or Kuroo’s, but Kenma had always looked a bit more on the delicate side, with his near-porcelain skin, slight build, and collected temperament.  

        Kenma had grown his hair out a bit after high school, the thin braid he kept it plated in reached just past his collar bone; a pale pink beanie snuggled tightly on the top of his dark roots.  Hinata was sure that Kuroo had encouraged the extra layer.  

        Kenma’s eyes and his mind were just as sharp as ever, his golden eyes flitting to Hinata in silent question every time he fidgeted in his chair or anxiously picked at anything within reach.    
“How’s the new game?  The one you were telling me came out last week?  What was it, uhh, Dragon Conqueror 4?” Hinata eagerly attempted small-talk, feeling all the more relieved when the waitress returned to their side with meals in-hand.

        “Dragon Conqueror 5,” Kenma corrected, reaching for his chopsticks and cracking them in half, “And it’s good.  Pretty much the same story as all the others.  Just new weapons and dungeons.”

        “Cool,” Hinata chimed in, though it sounded fake.  He handled the rounded sandwich that had been served and surged it forward into his mouth that was uncharacteristically awkward for conversation in his current state.  

        “If you wanted to ask me about my game, Shouyou, you could have just called me.” The statement seemed harmless enough, but Hinata knew it was an invitation.  Kenma quietly nibbled at a bite of salmon between his chopsticks, keeping his eyes coolly upon his plate.  It must have been more obvious than Hinata had feared, that he was facing a particularly unsettling internal struggle, for Kenma to have prompted him before finishing their meal.  

        “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

        “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

        “Hah, well, it’s just the usual stuff,” Hinata laughed nervously, “Things are tight, times are tough.  Nothing I can't handle.”

        “You said that last month.”

        Hinata chewed at his lip instead of his sandwich.  That was the problem with confessing things to Kenma-- he held on to every word said, and could smell bullshit a mile away.  Especially from someone as indiscreet with his emotions as Hinata.

        “Didn’t your mother offer for you to go back home and live with her?”

        Hinata made a disgusted face, not at the taste of his meal this time, but at himself,

        “There’s no way in hell I’m doing that.  I’m not going to be that guy that gets all the way through college just to move back in with his mom.”

        It was obvious that she missed him; every time Hinata phoned home on the weekends, his mother made it painfully known that Hinata’s room was just as he left it in case of such hardships like he had found himself it.  

        Hinata’s parents had a change of heart and separated when he was still fairly young, not quite as young as Natsu, but just old enough to feel responsibility and guilt settle heavily upon his conscience whenever he packed up his life and moved away to the city for college.  His sister was about to start her second year of junior high and was luckily at the age of independence.  Of course she missed him, too, but she had her empty-headed gaggle of friends and their gossip to keep her company while Hinata was away.  His mother, however, was feeling the nag of loneliness now more than ever with one child away at college and the other now preferring to spend her time at the mall than at home.  

        Though her offer was incredibly tempting, Hinata vowed to call home twice a week instead.  

        “Have you considered your other options?” Kenma inquired, knowing the answer already but still giving Hinata the benefit of the doubt, “You’re already working at the supermarket every other day; are you considering getting a second job?”

        Hinata sounded exasperated at just the thought, “I’d rather not, but I went ahead and put in a few applications downtown last week for evening shifts a few nights a week.”

        Kenma pursed his lips as he took in the information, knowing that Hinata was imminently going to sink into the hole that he had been making for himself over the last six months or so.  They ate in uncomfortable silence for the rest of their meal, neither of them finding the will or the need for small-talk once the mood had shifted.  

        Hinata watched the cars pass by on the street through the frosted glass of the cafe, counting the different shapes and sizes that seemed to be off to bigger and better things.  
Hinata wished more than anything that he could be a part of that.  

        In high school, he had slowly become a sports hero-- leading his team to Nationals through all of his years in school.  Even in college, everyone knew his name.  But that gilded dream had died just as quickly as it seemed to have begun, and Hinata Shouyou was once again a nobody.  He always had dreams, big dreams-- dreams of flying.  Now, he was faltering around on clipped wings, no strong team there to catch him if he fell anymore.

        “Your check, sir,” The petite waitress interrupted in her soft voice, laying a folded slip of paper in front of Hinata and Kenma stating their own individual tabs.  Hinata looked sheepish as he reached for his own, sucking in a tight breath as he eyed the pricey total.  

        Organic wasn’t cheap.

        “I can get it,” Kenma spoke up, looking gently concerned, though his set features rarely displayed his full intent, “I invited you here, it would be polite.”

        “No, no,” Hinata shook his head, feeling his ears burn in embarrassment, “I’m not that bad off, Kenma.”

        The redhead laughed off his own anxious misfortune, handing off his card to the cute waitress that returned to their table for payment.  But it wasn’t long before she promptly returned, looking equally as embarrassed as Hinata felt in the pit of his stomach.

        “I’m sorry, sir, but your card was declined… Do you have another form of payment you’d like to try?”

        Hinata’s heart sank again.  He didn’t.

        “Just combine both checks and take it out of this, please.  Keep the change.”

        Kenma chimed in in a tone more firm than his usual, offering payment to the waitress exchange for Hinata's declined card.  She quickly swapped the money and scurried off to the register to avoid the situation further, cashing out their tab and pocketing Kenma’s generous tip as she chattered enthusiastically with a coworker about her luck.  

        Hinata’s eyes widened.  

        “That’s a lot of money, Kenma.”

        It was intended to be some sort of awkward, thankful apology, but it came more such as an incredulous observation that Hinata was still processing.  

        It wasn’t that he assumed that Kenma wasn’t well-off; he always looked very put-together, adorned in the latest Tokyo fashion and rarely in the same outfit twice.  Hinata felt uncomfortably plain next to him in his athletic pants that were worn at the ankles and his school-issued jacket.  In fact, Kenma looked downright comfortable and right in his expensive clothing-- handing off big money to the waitress.

        The blond boy across the table shrugged again, his usual response when he felt like the attention was spotlighted on him, “I’m doing well enough.  I don’t mind.”

        “No kidding,” Hinata mumbled, returning his rejected card back into his wallet, “Kuroo’s business is doing pretty well then, huh?”

        Kenma shifted in his seat, his own anxiety still potent, “He has a lot of returning customers that like to throw around money.  It’s a little disheartening sometimes, but it works in our favor, I guess.”

        They never talked much about Kuroo and his line of work, why, Hinata wasn’t entirely sure; but every time he poked into Kenma’s personal life, he seemed a bit skittish.  Which wasn’t unlike Kenma, he had always been like that.  

        Hinata knew he was still one of Kenma’s closest friends, just from the handful of times that Kenma had allowed himself to open up to Hinata.  Hinata was the first person to learn of his and Kuroo’s relationship-- which was also nothing new.  For as long as Hinata had known the two, they had been joined at the contrasting hip, despite Hinata’s initial wariness towards Kuroo and his insistent teasing.  

        But from the moment Kenma became ill, Kuroo turned into an entirely new person.  

        He devoted himself and his life to Kenma and Kenma’s well being-- even going so far as to drop out of college to take care of him, much to Kenma’s disdain and guilt, Hinata was sure.  It was really no surprise when shortly after initial treatments, Kenma confided in Hinata that he and the lanky mischief-maker had escalated their relationship to a more romantic level.  Hinata wouldn’t deny the initial shock, but that was nothing compared to the relief that he felt knowing that someone as resilient as Kuroo had redirected his life to making Kenma’s a little stronger and brighter.  Besides that, Hinata realized that he knew embarrassingly little about the two that he considered friends and their lives outside of their volleyball days.  

        Again, Hinata felt startlingly predictable compared to his mysterious friends.  

        “Do you want me to walk you to the bus stop, Shouyou?” Kenma asked as they exited the cafe, plush scarf wrapped tightly beneath his chin.

        “Nah,” Hinata quickly declined, shoving his chilled fingers into his pockets, “You should probably rest before your shift tonight.  I’ll be fine from here alone.”

        Kenma nuzzled his nose down into the soft layers of his scarf, huffing a small puff of steamed breath past the folds, eyeing Hinata still with that same silent concern that he had been all through their lunch date.

        “I’m really glad we did this, I needed it.  Tell Kuroo I said hello-- maybe we can all meet up together next time if he could ever get a day off, sheesh.  That guy works more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

        “Please take care of yourself, Shouyou.”  Kenma ignored the idle small-talk that Hinata was still so painfully inept in, “I worry about you.  A lot.”

        Hinata looked taken aback, his stomach flipping suddenly with guilt.  After all Kenma had been through with his declining health, the last thing he needed to worry about was Hinata’s finances, or lack thereof.  

        “Don’t.  It’s going to take a lot more than one declined credit card to break me.”

        Kenma didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press, “You always seem to find a way.”

        And he did.  

        Hinata had sidestepped misfortune nearly his whole life, that obnoxiously gung-ho attitude always managing to get him back up on his feet as soon as he felt himself falling.  There was an impenetrable amount of willpower beneath the surface of that small body, and it was infectious.  It just wouldn’t do if others made a fuss over him.  

        Hinata’s baseless promises somehow managed to make his unfortunate circumstances look much more superficial than they were.  It wasn’t the best super power, but it was arguably Hinata’s.  

        The weight of the world nestled itself snug upon the redhead’s shoulders; it grounded him-- someday, he’d fly again.    

        The ride back home was typical.  The bus to his suburb was relatively empty in the late afternoon, and for that, Hinata was thankful.  It gave him time to reflect, time to plan without outside distractions.  His smartest solution was to acquire a second job and a second income, apart from his job as a stockboy at the local grocery; particularly, a night-shift job would pay him well and fit comfortably enough in his current schedule.  

        Hinata should have asked Kenma if Kuroo was looking for part-time help in… whatever it was that he did.  Would that be too forward?  As much as Hinata didn’t want to impose, his options and his connections were drastically limited.  Maybe tomorrow he’d phone Kenma and hint around a proposal.  Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier when they were at the cafe?

        Maybe soon he’d be able to pay for the lunch dates.  Maybe soon he’d be the one tipping the cute waitresses a bit more than what was necessary.  All this while being donned in clothing so high-end and sharp, it’d put a boy band’s music video to shame.

        Hinata swallowed his restless pride and self-pity and decided that tomorrow would be a new day-- a new day with new opportunities, and new chances to take.  

        He’d do anything, Hinata vowed, any miniscule job that Kuroo would throw his way, Hinata would take.  He’d scrub toilets, he’d wash dishes, he’d go on coffee runs for Kuroo if that meant getting his bank account out of the red.  

        Hinata bounced his legs at his seat, watching himself pass by the illuminated city through his window, the whole scene a bit of a blur at their speed; and for the first time in a while, he felt like he was going somewhere.

        The final stop was just half of a block from his apartment, and Hinata skipped the last step of the bus as he bounded onto the concrete.  Fresh excitement willed him forward.  

        When Hinata turned the corner to his street, he was perplexed to see a small mound of furniture abandoned on the curb.  How strange… One of the neighbors must be having a yard sale late in the afternoon.  But Hinata couldn’t help the anxiety that was poking at the back of his brain.  

        He walked a little faster.  Realization hit him unforgivingly, as a cold pang of dread shot down his spine.  
This was his stuff.  

        His desk, his clothes, his volleyball trophies, his television; every item he ever owned, big and small, was spewed out on the streets without a care.  

        “No,” Hinata begged, running his fingertips along the wood of his furniture just to be sure of the reality, “No, not yet, no, no, no…”

        Abandoning his belongings, Hinata sprinted forward to his apartment building and jerked open the heavy metal door.  He took the stairs two, three steps at a time until he got to his floor.  Plastered across what used to be the front door of his apartment was a legal notification of his eviction-- signed and dated on the bottom line.  

        He thought he had more time.  

        One more week, Hinata relented, one more day…

        Hot tears pricked in the corners of his eyes.  He didn’t know what to do.  Frustrated fingers dove into his orange scalp and dug into his skin, fluffing his mess of curls into a tizzy as he paced the floor, cursing.  

       He tried the doorknob, just to be sure.  Locked.    
       He tried his key, just to be sure.  Replaced.

        Reaching into his pocket, Hinata retrieved his phone, he half-heartedly padded through his contacts until the light rested upon the contact information for his mother.  Hinata stared upon the familiar numbers, knowing what he needed to do.  It was the smartest decision-- arguably, one he should have submitted to long ago.  

        Welcome to rock-bottom.  

        But…

        Hinata turned his head, eyeing the metal door next to his apartment (or what used to be his.)  It was quiet again on his floor, and empty, Kageyama probably wasn’t even home.  This would be a waste of time, really.  Hinata felt possessed with desperation as he snapped his phone shut, sliding the slim cell phone back into his pocket.  It only took him a few steps to get to Kageyama’s door, and somehow, it instantly relieved him realizing he had been this close all this time.

        Hinata took a deep breath.  

        He knocked three times.    


	2. Chapter 2: As soon as we get back on our feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata works up the nerve to visit Kageyama next door since he has nowhere else to go except back home to Mama. (These two are just as dumb in adulthood as they were in high school, don't worry.) But Hinata comes bearing a proposition for Kageyama that he most definitely does not want to take. Even if it's tempting and he's hiding some secrets of his own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, guys. I definitely do not mean to abandon this fic, but here I am like 5 months later? Life stuff came up. I moved states, went to some conventions, and honestly was just super uninspired to write on this to a point. But I'm really excited to get back to work on this and I appreciate those who have hung in there with this mess and have sent me messages and comments!!! Updates should come much faster now, I already have chapter 3 pretty much done, and I have some bits of chapters to come written as well. Props to Kaitie for beta-testing for me, which kicked my ass into gear to write again. Enjoy.~

     Adulthood had done little to help Kageyama Tobio’s perpetual scowl.  In fact, Hinata considered the idea that it had maybe even made it worse.  

 

     When he opened the door for Hinata’s insistent knocking, Kageyama stood firmly in the doorway of his apartment, adorned in loose, grey sweats and an old t-shirt from their Karasuno years; the proud orange color muted from all the years spent sweating in it, training in it, winning in it, losing in it.  Wash after wash, those faded shirts had seen their better days.  And now it was just a convenient pajama shirt.  

 

     Hinata found it a bit painfully symbolic.

 

    “Is your dumbass brain hardwired to know exactly when I don’t want company?”

 

    Hinata rolled his brown eyes as high as he could, stepping past Kageyama and into his apartment.  Kageyama made no real effort to stop him, only scoffing when Hinata didn’t take the hint.

 

    “Your smelly sweatpants don’t exactly scream ‘busy’, Kageyama.”

 

    The dark-haired boy at the doorway widened his eyes at the jab, quick on the defense, “I do not _smell_ ,” Though he tipped his chin into his chest and gave a short sniff as Hinata’s back was still to him, “I just got off work and I’m exhausted.  I’m about to fix something to eat, so if you’re determined to stay, at least keep it down.  I can’t handle your energy quite yet.”

 

    Hinata threw himself onto the old, dark blue, hand-me-down couch in Kageyama’s living room, already interested in a volleyball rerun that was humming quietly on the television.  He pouted quietly from afar as he watched Kageyama retreat into the open kitchenette, retrieving a small plastic bag of mixed vegetables and what looked like pork from the fridge.

 

     “Sheesh, you’re extra grumpy today,” Hinata mumbled the words mostly to himself, he knew that Kageyama worked hard to get paid little.  It was no surprise that it left him disgruntled and fatigued, so Hinata quietly contented himself with whatever level of company Kageyama could be in the moment.  He’d gladly busy himself with flipping through lame soap-operas or outdated movies just to have someone there—

 

     “Wait, _you_ don’t _cook_.” Hinata squinted incredulously.

 

    “Do you know how expensive eating out for every meal is?  Cooking is smart, Hinata.”

 

     Hinata twisted and wiggled his small body until he was high on his knees, resting his folded arms and his chin upon the back of the couch.

 

     He _had_ to see this.

 

     Kageyama clicked a few knobs on the stove top, snatched a pot, a pan, a knife from the different levels of his cabinets; he was a little clumsy and hesitant in the kitchen, but not totally incompetent it seemed.  Steam rose over Kageyama’s shoulder shortly, the small common area of the apartment growing warmer from the kitchen’s output.

 

     “Sure smells good.” The redhead complimented.

 

     “I’m just boiling water, Hinata…”

 

     “Oh.”

 

     Hinata drummed his fingers on the back of the couch, picking at a loose string that had come unraveled from the originally tightly woven pattern as Kageyama busied himself in silence, water hissing as it bubbled over onto the stove eye.  

 

     “Hey, maybe we could have a sleepover tonight!”

 

     “A sleepover?” Kageyama scoffed a single laugh, “Come on, Hinata, we aren’t in high school anymore.”

 

     “I end up crashing here _at least_ once a week already, why is tonight any different?”

 

     Hinata was growing persistent in trying to coax some reasoning for Kageyama’s especially sour mood.  Kageyama just shrugged.

 

     He never considered what they did ‘sleepovers’ it was just… Hinata coming over, overstaying his welcome, and then falling asleep on his couch.  Even though Kageyama always attempted to discourage him, he never seemed to put up too much of a fight.

 

     “I have to work pretty early in the morning.”

 

     “Come _on_ , Kageyama, don’t be so lame.  I’ll bring over some terrible movies, you’ve already got dinner started, and it’s starting to smell _pretty tasty_ \--”

 

     “So that’s what this is about, you just want a free meal out of me?”

 

     Hinata was starting to gain an aggravated desperation into his tone, “Cut the crap, Kageyama, I just don’t want to be alone tonight.  Hang out with me!--”

 

    “I already know you got kicked out of your apartment, idiot.”

 

    The redhead felt his face flush in utter humiliation, uncharacteristically at a loss for words as his mouth opened and closed in earnest like a landed fish.

 

    “You do.”

 

    “Kenma texted me a little bit ago-- before you got back.  He wanted me to check on you, and the eviction notice plastered on your front door was sort of a give-away.  I’m not sure why it wasn’t for you, too, considering most places give tenants _several_ warnings until they throw you out on the curb.”

 

     He gave Hinata a stern, knowing glance over his shoulder before he turned back to his cooking.  He must have seen Hinata’s belongings already out on said metaphoric curb.

 

    “I know,” Hinata snapped, dropping his head in his hands to grind his fingernails into his scalp out of self-inflicted frustration, “I know.  I _know--_ can we just _please_ not have the ‘I told you so’ talk right now?  Not yet.”

 

    Kageyama eyed him quietly then, sparing the moody banter that he had perpetuated since Hinata’s arrival, brows still set firm in a line that left a deep crease between them.  

 

     He side-stepped to the fridge again, inspected the contents before collecting two cans of discounted beer in one hand.  He joined Hinata on the couch, letting his full weight fall onto the worn-out padding before knocking one of the chilled cans against Hinata’s shoulder to get his attention.  

 

     The troubled male perked then, meeting Kageyama’s side-eyed gaze for a moment before accepting the offering.  The two clicked open the tabs in silence and turned the can upwards to let that first mouthful settle.

 

    “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

 

    Kageyama made a soft grunt, as if he were personally offended, “It’s cheap.   _Free_ for you; stop complaining.”

 

    To be fair, Hinata really wasn’t in a position to debate.  His well-off friend had already bought him a nice meal, and now Hinata was gratefully taking the free beer that was offered to him even though it tasted like something that should never be put into a human body.  

 

     He was really off to a great start with this whole homeless thing.

 

     “What are you going to do now?”

 

     And there it was, the question Hinata had tried to avoid the most.

 

     “I honestly don’t know,” He admitted to Kageyama a bit easier than he had expected, “My options aren’t so great.  I could always pack up and go back home with Mom and Natsu, but that’s something I’m saving as a last resort.”

     “You realize we live in the cheapest neighborhood outside of Tokyo, right?  You’re either going to have to move, get another job, or get a roommate.  And get used to eating cheap-ass ramen every night, like I am.”

 

     Speaking of which, Kageyama thoughtfully peaked at the stove; he had simmered the heat, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford a wasted meal at this point, either.

 

     In the heavy, contemplative silence, a lightbulb went off in that fluffy head of orange curls.  Hinata’s lips twitched then into a goofy, sheepish and yet thoughtful grin, turning to glance Kageyama’s way as he prepared a dangerous proposal.  

 

     This was going to be the tricky part.

 

     “It would _definitely_ be cheaper if I had a roommate.”

 

     “Mhm.”

 

     “I mean, it would be for anyone, really.”

 

     “Mhm.”

 

     “Like, what do you pay for this place every month, Kageyama?  I bet it’s a lot on your own.”

 

     “Absolutely not.”

 

     Hinata frowned, as if surprised that Kageyama caught on to his proposal much sooner than he had given him credit for, “Come on, Kageyama, you know it’d be so much cheaper if I split the rent with you.”

 

     “You are not moving in with me.  End of story.”

 

     Leaning forward to abandon the beer that he had hardly touched to the adjacent coffee table, Hinata wiggled his torso until he faced Kageyama completely, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible-- not that he was in any shape or form with that tousled mess of orange on his head and bony knees hugged tight to his short torso.

 

     “What, like you’re doing so well here on your own?  When’s the last time you went to the store and bought something other than this piss-water and instant ramen?  Don’t act like you’re so much better off than I am.”

 

     Kageyama’s features twisted then, looking like an obvious mix of offended and embarrassed.  He floundered as well, opening and closing his mouth to grunt unintelligible sounds in response to Hinata’s accusations.  Fingers crunched softly into the aluminum of the can.

 

     “I’m managing.”

 

     “You wouldn’t have to manage this way-- we could go back to eating good food, getting beers with the guys in Tokyo; we stop living paycheck to paycheck and worrying about our credit cards getting declined.”

 

     Kageyama wasn’t convinced, but his grimace softened.

 

     “You won’t even know that I’m here,” Hinata tried another approach, “I’m calling Kuroo tomorrow morning first thing to see if he needs extra help with his business.  Plus if I keep my job at the supermarket, I’ll be out of the apartment, and your hair, practically from sun-up to sun-down.”

 

     “Do you even know what Kuroo’s business _is_?  Do you even know what job you’d be applying for?”  Kageyama chimed in with what was intended to be a jab at Hinata’s typical carelessness, but the tone gave way to Kageyama’s own curiosity.  

 

     No one really knew what Kuroo’s side-business was, though it was rarely discussed for any length of time in their group before the subject was forgotten or shut down.  

 

     Hinata was in regular contact with Kenma, Kuroo’s partner, but the small blond boy was always reluctant to talk about it, claiming that it wasn’t his work to discuss, or appearing bored with the burden of discussing matters as mundane as business.  Kageyama wondered if the reasoning was because Kuroo’s business was slowly failing-- though that hardly seemed the case, when Kenma seemed well-kept.  

 

     He also humored the idea that Kuroo’s company was something unfathomably embarrassing, like a day-spa for stray alley cats, and that was why it was so hush-hush.  Or maybe it was something cool yet dangerous, as Kuroo had tried to portray himself in their high school years, like the Yakuza or the Black Market.

 

     Whatever it was, it was working.

 

    “I think I’m a little bit past dignity, Kageyama,” Hinata grumbled, having a similar thought pattern as the dark-haired boy as usual, “If I can bag groceries and stock shelves for hours, and still maintain a will to live, I think I can handle literally any other job Kuroo could throw at me.”

 

    Kageyama gave a silent, knowing nod then.  

 

     It was hard to argue against Hinata’s words, though he wasn’t one to judge when he himself had only just this year been offered an internship to assistant coaching a small, local middle school’s volleyball team.  But the head coach mostly put him in charge of equipment management and making sure the gym was locked nightly, since despite his humble fame from years past, a lot of the kids complained about his scary face...

 

The money was decent, but somehow it was never quite enough.

    “Oi, Kageyama, your ramen!”

 

    And as if he were some tiny, orange rocket, Hinata launched himself off the back of the couch and scurried over to the pot that was boiling over in Kageyama’s neglect.  Startled from his thoughts, Kageyama craned his head over his shoulder to watch Hinata run to his ramen’s rescue, simmering the heat of the stovetop to a milder temperature.  

 

    “Oh,” Kageyama blinked, “Thanks.”

 

     After all these years, Hinata’s reflexes still took him by surprise.  

 

     It was obnoxiously nostalgic.

 

     “Ugh, the counter’s soaked,” Hinata scrubbed a wet hand on the front of his pants, “Do you have any napkins?”

 

     Kageyama opened his mouth to interject, to tell Hinata not to worry about the water spilled on the countertop, but the redhead was already on the move, pilfering through a mess of papers that had consumed the small, wooden breakfast table adjacent from him from too many late, exhausting evenings at work.  Some of the papers had looked suspiciously liked napkins at Hinata's first glance, but upon inspection it was just a litter of Kageyama’s mail.

 

      But then a bright yellow flyer caught his eye.  Hinata felt his empty stomach drop at the realization of the irony that this day was about to become.

 

      “ _Are you fucking serious_?”

 

     Kageyama’s attention was snapped back to the smaller male as he shrieked; the sound of rustling muffled him as he waved a fluorescent piece of paper in the air, “What is _this_?”

 

    “Don’t go through my shit.” Kageyama barked, shoving himself off of the couch to swarm Hinata, hands going immediately for the flyer that he had not intended for the redhead’s viewing.  He seemed suspiciously frantic which made Hinata all the more argumentative.  For a moment, they half-heartedly fought over the paper, Hinata always being just a second quicker and able to dodge Kageyama’s every advance.  In inevitable defeat, the taller male stilled and his shoulders dropped forward.

 

     His secrets had been bared, it was a flyer that Hinata knew all too well.

 

    “When were you going to tell me?  When you got kicked out on the streets, too?”

 

    “It’s none of your--”

 

    “All this time that you knew I was struggling to pay rent, and you never mentioned _once_ that you were struggling, too?  You don’t think that was important?  You don’t think I would have liked to have known that?”

    “And what good would that have done you?  To stress over your own shit _and_ mine?”

 

    “We’re friends, Kageyama, come on,” Hinata sounded harassed and weary, shoving the paper against Kageyama’s broader chest.  Kageyama’s fingers slowly crinkled around the edges, “I know it always kills you to admit it, but we are.  And I gotta know when we’re facing a debilitating financial crisis at the same time.”

 

    Kageyama’s mouth and eyebrows set into hard, flat line, unable to face the shame of his own mistakes, and his friend’s, head-on.  

 

    “I _was_ going to tell you.  Eventually.”

 

    “Forget it,” Hinata snapped, wincing at how pained his own tone had hardened to, “I trust you, Kageyama.  I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else.  I was just really hoping you maybe felt the same.”

 

    Something deep inside of Kageyama ached at that accusation.

 

    The smaller boy turned on the squeak of his sneaker then, storming off towards the front of the apartment where he jerked open the front door and let it slam behind him.  Kageyama felt the vibration shake all through his bones at if it had been some part of himself.

 

    And somehow, he noticed, the apartment quickly felt more uncomfortable without his hot-headed best friend there shamelessly commandeering his couch or just his personal space in general, as he so often was.  The quiet was suddenly deafening,  the space was suddenly heavy.

 

     Kageyama folded up the eviction notice and replaced it back upon the breakfast nook, sliding it in between a few other miscellaneous papers to hide it away.  Maybe he could pretend none of it happened this way-- out of sight and out of mind.  But if he was being painfully honest with himself, loathe as he was to admit it, that piece of paper somehow wasn’t the forefront of his concern.

 

     Though he didn’t have much of an appetite left, Kageyama swirled the softened noodles around in the pot with his chopsticks, hoping that the ramen might settle the guilty pit in his stomach.  The vegetables and packet of meat had been entirely forgotten in the intensity of the moment upon the kitchen counter.  A warmed and ready skillet upon a stove eye awaited the offering, but Kageyama clicked the stove’s power off instead, thinking better of it-- thinking that perhaps he _had_ subconsciously set out just a little too much food for one person.  

 

     What a waste.

 

     He reached for his beer instead.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

    When they had first moved into their apartment complex, Hinata had made his excitement for the modest playground located behind the main building very well known.

 

    Kageyama had teased him thoroughly for it from the beginning, claiming that they were much too old now to be spending their time on a jungle gym and instead should be inside preparing for classes the next day.  But when Hinata somehow convinced the landlords to install a modest volleyball net in the sandbox, the lectures suddenly stopped.

 

     They spent most of their free-time there enjoying each other’s company and the simplicity that their routine had become.  Hinata would never admit it, but he had been painfully jealous when Kageyama accepted his internship at the school-- he’d managed to cling to the dream of Kageyama and himself being partnered on a court forever until that day.  Life after Karasuno seemed difficult, but life after volleyball seemed impossible.  So, the two kept their skills sharp and their minds complacent in the evenings until the sunlight failed them.

 

     Kageyama justified that it was extra ‘off the job training’.  Hinata was more than willing to go along with that excuse.

 

     That court looked particularly lonely tonight.

 

     Arguably the worst part of fighting with your best friend is that you don’t have _your best friend_ around to vent about it and help you through it.  But Hinata found some solace in the fact that he wasn’t entirely alone quite yet, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and thumbed over to the same number that he had called this morning.

 

     Hinata knew that the only thing that was going to stop making him feel helpless today was to actually stop being helpless.  Even if that did come with a little help from a friend.

 

     “Shouyou?” The ringing at his ear subsided and Kenma’s voice came through the phone.

 

    “Hi, Kenma,” It sounded like an apology, “You’re probably sick of hearing from me today by now.”

 

    “No, it’s fine.  I don’t mind.”

 

    There was a loaded pause after Kenma’s to-the-point reply, Hinata chewing his bottom lip raw all the while as he carefully ordered the frantic thoughts into words that wanted to make their way out of his mouth as an incoherent scream of pure frustration.

 

    “I’ve just been thinking, and I know that it’s a lot.  But could you… Maybe ask Kuroo if he needs any extra help?”

 

    “Shouyou, I don’t think--”

 

    “I’ll do anything, Kenma,” There was a crack in his voice, sincerity and desperation spilling out of his interjection, “Please, I’ll wash windows, I’ll mop floors.  I’m a good worker!”

 

     “That’s not-- I know you are-- that’s not it...”

 

     “What is it, then?”

 

     “I just don’t think this line of work is what you’re looking for.”

 

     “How will I know if you don’t give me a chance?”

 

      Hinata knew he was being aggressively forward, and he did feel bad about it, but the reminder that he didn’t officially have anywhere to sleep tonight allowed him the temporary audacity to beg for help from his generous and patient friend.

 

     “Hold on,” Kenma sighed, though he luckily didn’t sound annoyed—in fact it sounded like a surrender, “Kuroo just walked though the door…”

 

    Hinata held his breath, straining to hear Kenma on the other end of the line.  He could hear a slightly deeper voice in the background, the two mumbled back in forth with words that Hinata could not quite discern.

 

    The deeper voice sounded almost frustrated, tired, but Kenma also sounded as if he were gently holding his ground and doing it well, “Shouyou?”

 

    “Y-Yea?” He tripped over the word, tilting away from the phone that he had pressed up against his face to pry, once Kenma’s voice was back and at full volume.  

 

    “Can you meet with us tomorrow?  I’ve set you up an interview.”

 

    Tears of relief burned across his vision, but Hinata let them come, caring only to clear his voice, “Of course!  Of course I can, _thank you_ , Kenma.  A-And obviously tell Kuroo I said so, too.”

 

    “Heh,” Kenma muttered a soft laugh into the receiver, “You can tell him yourself tomorrow.”

    And that prospect made Hinata’s smile so tightly that it ached his cheeks.

 

    “But, Shouyou,” Kenma’s brief amusement seemed to sober, “Please be prepared for anything.  I can’t stress that enough.”

 

    And he would be.  Hinata had made it very clear that no job was too noble so long as the pay was right-- by the looks of Kuroo and Kenma’s posh wardrobe, the pay was _very_ right.  

 

     They exchanged brief farewells before the call ended, and Hinata pocketing his phone while he scrubbed at his dampened cheeks with a jacket sleeve.  He had only run out on Kageyama no longer ago than an hour, but it had felt like an uncomfortable eternity.  He should probably go back now before it got later.

 

_Could_ he go back?

     Hinata suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold and lonely as he rocked himself with the balls of his feet, pulling every resource in his brain that he could fantasize-- if just for tonight, he could sleep in the breezeway of the apartment complex or even in the tube slide of the playground.  He probably even had just enough pocket money stashed away in one of his abandoned cabinets to rent a hotel room for the night.  It would be a frivolous yet necessary expense.  

 

    The only conclusion that Hinata could come to was that he couldn’t leave his belongings on the curb like they were now.  It wouldn’t be long before strangers got curious and greedy, and things went missing.  

 

    Hinata had never considered himself a materialistic person, until his video games were suddenly bargaining chips for groceries and his furniture could be pawned for backed up utility fees.  

 

    Swinging himself forward off of the swing to land himself righted upon the dirt, Hinata held fast to the promising, positive future and swallowed down the bitterness of anxiety that was his current reality.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders pinched up high to ward off the chill of the setting evening and decided to take the longer walkway to the front of the building.

 

    He was thankful for the solitude-- no one had been in the breezeways when he had fled the building, the playground had been empty, and even now the walkways around the complex were just as bare.  

 

     The only person Hinata encountered seemed to be someone else with the same general destination walking down to the curb from the building’s front door in a suspicious hurry… And he was diving into Hinata’s belonging and scooping up as much as he could in one arm-load.

    He was already too late— _wait, please—_

     Someone from his own complex was pilfering through his discarded things.  Hinata felt a stab of betrayal through his chest, his ears burnt red with anger, “Hey!”

 

     Hearing that he was suddenly caught, the thief jerked around with startled, wide eyes and full hands.

 

     “...Kageyama?” Hinata came to a halt.

 

     The dark-haired boy looked equal parts embarrassed and put-out as he regarded Hinata, who now stood before him just as torn, “I, uhh… ‘M sorry…”

 

     Hinata blinked, “What?”

 

     “I said _I’m sorry_.”  

 

     “What are you… My stuff…” Hinata floundered, he was a mess of confusion from Kageyama’s apology and actions, “But what are you _doing_?”

     Kageyama shifted on his feet embarrassingly, readjusting the lamp and a stack of books cradled in his arms, “You can’t just leave your stuff out here.  Any asshole passing through could take it-- and I’ll never forgive you if you let someone take your Nationals medal.”

 

     Hinata fed off of Kageyama’s embarrassment, eyes sinking to the scuffed toes of his shoes, “The communal storage is already full… This stuff isn’t going to fit in there.”

 

     “We’re taking it to the apartment, idiot,” Kageyama had already redirected his gaze, just barely catching Hinata’s raw reaction out of the corner of his eye, “Grab stuff.  Hurry up.”

 

     He sucked in his bottom lip, feeling it tremble as soon as Kageyama’s intent was made clear-- he was letting Hinata stay.  It had initially been Hinata’s own idea, but there was a large, nagging part of him that knew the thought was futile.  Kageyama liked his space, and his schedule, and his way of doing things; throwing the curveball that was Hinata into that environment seemed like utter, excitable chaos.  

 

     Hinata didn’t press his luck.  He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t throw himself on Kageyama in gratitude or jump for joy into the air-- even though relief and happiness bubbled up inside of him so aggressively that Hinata almost expect himself to rocket off of the sidewalk.

 

     He did as he was told.  

 

    Cradling a load in each arm of some of his lighter belongings, Hinata trailed behind Kageyama’s heels as he took to the apartment complex’s main stairwell.  When they arrived back at Kageyama’s apartment, the door was conveniently left open, and there was already a good bit of Hinata’s belongings in the living room.

 

     His clothes were draped over the back of the couch, shoes stored by the foyer with Kageyama’s, cups and other cookware was already at home on Kageyama’s kitchen counter…

 

     Hinata’s entire life had been boxed up and thought to be discarded, and yet here they were-- safe, but relocated.  And that’s how Hinata felt.  It was still a little disheartening, not knowing where or what his future held.

 

     But this was his ‘now’-- cramped inside a single-bedroom apartment in the suburbs with Kageyama, who was clearly reluctant to even be sharing it when he didn’t have to.  And somehow, Hinata felt like it was a fresh start.  One that he desperately needed.  Though it was unspoken, but not unknown, Kageyama needed it too.

 

     They were making an obnoxious habit out of saving each other.

 

     “That should be it,” Kageyama announced, dropping a box of odds and ends beside the far-side of the couch so that Hinata’s boxes completely encircled it, “Better be, at least.  I don’t know where we’d put anything else.”

     “Hey,” Hinata called softly, seated on one of the couch’s arms.  He had tried to keep things casual while there was work to do during the fleeting daylight, but now the night had settled in and they were left with no more boxes, but plenty to talk about.

 

     “Thank you, Kageyama,” He continued, fingers wringing together in his lap, “I mean it… You’re literally saving my life here.  I’ll repay you someday-- not just the rent, but like, I’ll repay your kindness.”

 

     Kageyama stood next to him, blue eyes staring down his nose at Hinata.  He regarded him uncomfortably quiet for a moment, seeming lost in thought that he didn’t care to voice.  Which was dangerous for Kageyama.

 

     “It’s fine,” The dark-haired boy shrugged off Hinata’s praise and the tension, “It’s helping me out just as much, really.  You staying here is going to mean that I’ll be saving a good amount on rent every month.”

 

     The more Kageyama convinced himself that Hinata moving in was _his_ idea, the more he seemed to accept it.  Which was fine.  Hinata just smiled to himself and nodded, preferring the comfortable roof over his head instead of fueling their silly rivalry.  

 

     For now, at least.

 

    “Let’s lay down some ground-rules.”

 

     Hinata slumped in his seat.

 

     “Number one, don’t go in my room.  If you’re going to be living here for a while, I want at least one spot in the house that’s still totally mine.”

 

     Hinata rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine.”

 

     “Number two, you pay rent or you’re out.  I mean it.  Rent’s going to be pretty cheap so there’s no reason why together we can’t come up with it every month.”

 

     “Easy.  I’m still working day shift at the grocery, and I’ll be getting a night-shift job soon, too.”

 

     Kageyama eyed Hinata almost in quiet curiosity for a moment.  He hadn’t mentioned getting a second job yet which was unlike Hinata, but he moved on to the next order quickly, pacing the living room as if he were delivering a decree to his kingdom-- at least that’s what Hinata mused that he looked like.

 

     “Three, no people over without telling me.  This is still technically _my_ place.”

 

     “Not even some hot girls?”

 

     Kageyama nearly tripped over his own pacing feet.  His eyes widened almost in a strange horror at Hinata’s inquiry, who was innocently smiling back as if it were commonplace.

 

     “I’m not even humoring that.”

 

     Hinata made a sour face and Kageyama wasn’t sure if it was out of disappointment for not going along with the joke, or for his request being denied.  Maybe it was just Kageyama’s horror rubbing off on him.  

 

     “Four, don’t eat my food.  That’s obvious.”

 

     Hinata groaned, “Kageyama, I get it.  Don’t touch your shit, no parties-- can we please start acting a little more like roommates and a little less like you’re a prison guard?”

 

     He really should have reprimanded Hinata for interrupting him like that, but he seemed to get the main points well enough that Kageyama couldn’t argue.

 

     “Lastly, number five,” This was one rule he wouldn’t budge on, and so he wanted to let it be known from the very beginning so that there was no confusion or confrontation down the line, “This is temporary.  As soon as you get… As soon as _we_ get back on our feet, you’re getting your own place again.”

 

     “Well, duh,” Hinata laughed off the anxiety that suddenly settled in his stomach, “Trust me, this wasn’t exactly where I saw myself at this point in my life.”

 

    It almost, _almost_ , felt like a slap in the face-- but that was silly.  Kageyama understood what Hinata had meant; he felt the same.  But a lesson that they learned individually back in the day, they were getting familiar with once again as a pair was that reaching rock-bottom means you can only go up.

 

    “Well, why don’t you _see yourself_ doing something with all that mess while I put dinner back on the stove.”

 

    Hinata circled his gaze around the couch, counting eleven boxes in total of different sizes, not entirely sure where he should-- or where he was allowed-- to start.  He wanted to infringe on Kageyama’s apartment as gentle as possible, so throwing his toothbrush in the same jar would probably be a task for a little later.

 

    He contented himself with a box of volleyball trophies, medals, and framed photos, squeezing them in with Kageyama’s own on a small shelf across the room where he kept his desk.  It looked right-- their histories laid out like that.  There were some plaques from middle school that they had earned before they’d met, before _them_.  And then there were the trophies from high school that matched from spring and fall tournaments, but the golden medals on cloth ribbon declaring their victory at Nationals was arguably Hinata’s favorite for a plethora of reasons.  Hinata would gladly list off those reasons.  Kageyama would have agreed if he had asked.

    “This’ll only take a bit to cook,” Kageyama declared, “So don’t get started on a big box just yet.”

 

    “You got it, roomie.”

 

    “ _Don’t_.”

 

    “Yep.  Got it.”

 

    Hinata held on to the last photo a little longer than he did the others, a shot of their—his and Kageyama’s-- third year at Karasuno.  

 

     The faces of the team had changed-- but not the dedication, nor the growth, nor the bond.  Hinata couldn’t help but laugh to himself, even though he and Kageyama were proudly in the middle of the group (donned in captains jerseys), they were ever so slightly blurry with their arms pressed up against each other, their faces a little less than pleased.  

 

     He couldn’t really recall that far back, but Hinata assumed they had been butting heads right before the picture had been taken.

 

    His old friend and captain, Sugawara Koushi, had told him something during Hinata’s first week at Karasuno that had always stuck with him through the years.  When he and Kageyama had first been re-introduced, it was as infamous and troublesome rivals.  But, as Suga predicted, Kageyama had become Hinata’s greatest ally throughout their years together-- a partnership that bloomed off of the court and into a friendship that they took with them after Suga and the others, after Karasuno.

 

    Feeling incredibly nostalgic, Hinata wanted to tell Kageyama that he sincerely couldn’t imagine being stuck in this situation with anyone else.  But true as it was, it almost sounded pathetically romantic for best friends.  

 

    So, “Haha, look at your face in this picture, Kageyama-- who the heck made you captain with a face like that?” was what he went with instead.

 

    Kageyama growled a retort, Hinata laughed it off; they reunited in the kitchen to tag-team their first meal together and fell into a comfortable routine faster than either had expected.  

 

    Then again, they had always been their own, strange, little wavelength.

   

 


End file.
